


The Butler and the Open Secret

by WolfenM



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Boys In Love, Canon Gay Relationship, Character Study, Confessions, Edwardian Period, Falling In Love, Families of Choice, Fix-It of Sorts, Gay Male Character, Homosexuality, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Post-Canon Fix-It, Requited Love, Revelations, Romance, Self-Improvement, Self-Reflection, post-movie: Downton Abbey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2020-10-29 02:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20788985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfenM/pseuds/WolfenM
Summary: Thomas reels over something that's just happened -- agoodthing. Agreatthing. Maybe the best thing of his life!Now if only he couldtellsomeone ....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: contains SPOILERS for the Downton Abbey movie!! My review of the film: <http://www.sequentialtart.com/reports.php?ID=11513>
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Thomas Barrow, Robert Crawley / Lord/Earl of Grantham, Beryl Patmore, John Bates, Anna Bates (nee Smith), John Bates Jr, Mary Crawley, Edith Pelham (nee Crawley) / the Marchioness of Hexham, Bertie Pelham / the Marquis of Hexam, Daisy Mason (nee Robinson), Andy Parker, George Crawley, Henry Talbot, Tom Branson, Sybbie Branson, Cora Crawley / Lady Grantham, Charles Carson, Elsie Hughes, Sybil Branson (nee Crawley) and Jimmy Kent © Julian Fellowes / ITV / PBS / Focus features. This is just fanfiction, not an official story for the series, and no profit is being made by the author.

It took a few long moments after Richard left for Thomas to recover from the shock. 

This stunningly handsome man -- a man he'd basically _just met_ \-- wanted to be with _him_. 

Didn't want to be 'just friends' -- wanted to be _more_. 

Had _kissed_ him, even! 

Had given him a _token_, something to remind Thomas of him. Had given him a _promise_ that they would meet again. 

Had basically _saved his life_ the night before, by keeping him from going to prison (not to mention from being sacked). 

Just half a day ago, Thomas had been living resigned to the idea that he would always be alone. That even in his twilight years, he wouldn't find the happiness that even Mr Carson had finally done, with Mrs Hughes. And then, in twenty-four hours, Thomas had been picked up at a bar by the Webster fellow, and had had men eyeing him at a club full of people _just like him_ \-- a place which he never even would have imagined existed -- and now he had a boyfriend. 

_Thomas had a boyfriend._

Not just a pen-pal -- which was all he'd dare hope for (and for a moment, when Richard asked in strange tones if Thomas thought they were friends, he'd thought Richard was going to refuse to even be that) -- but an honest-to-God _sweetheart!_

He closed his eyes and touched his lips, trying to relive the feel of Richard's against them. Damn Andy for the interruption! Damn the _king_ for necessitating Andy interrupting them! The butler's heart was still racing, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the kiss, or because they'd almost been caught! (Both, probably.) 

Since he wasn't back on duty, he wouldn't be expected upstairs to bid the king goodbye, so he allowed himself the luxury of admiring his new trinket -- a horse brass, buffed impossibly bright -- and thinking back on every moment with Richard since they'd met. It was all too little of a time to remember for now, but hopefully that would change -- hopefully someday they'd have spent so much time together, there would come to be more memories of Richard than anyone else. 

With his newfound knowledge, their interactions prior to the raid took on a new shine. Before, he hadn't known at all what Richard had intended for their trip to York. The idea that Richard might fancy him was just that -- a fancy he struggled to _not_ entertain, not wanting to get his hopes up. He'd told himself that Richard was just a friendly (funny, charming, kind) fellow. He'd tried not to marvel too much that this beautiful man had invited him anywhere. But now Thomas _knew_ that Richard had indeed be interested in Thomas when he'd made his invitation! Had looked at Thomas and decided, "I'll take _this_ one!" 

_How_ had he come to decide that, though? _Why_ was he attracted to Thomas? Being _wanted_ had become such a foreign notion after all these years, Thomas still couldn't quite wrap his head around it actually happening to him. He knew why _he'd_ been smitten with _Richard_ from the get-go, but Thomas also knew that he himself was a hard man to even just _like_. 

And now, he worried. What if, after Richard got to know him better, Richard decided he didn't like Thomas after all? 

Thomas had never actually _had_ a mutual love, didn't really know what it was like. The Duke of Crawborough had been more of a means to an end than an actual love, for _both_ of them. There had been flings in the army, but those were about stress relief. As for Edward, Thomas hadn't even _known_ if the man was lavender. And while Thomas had loved Jimmy, and Jimmy had eventually become his friend, Jimmy's affection was more brotherly, if anything. 

What if Thomas just wasn't good enough? How _could_ he be, when he didn't know what had drawn Richard to him in the first place? What if Richard had all the wrong ideas about him? 

He clung to the memory of their talk outside of the police station, when Richard had, after touching his own lips, laid his finger against the butler's lips to quiet him. It was then, with that simple yet intimate gesture, that Thomas understood Richard was _interested_ in him. Right up until that moment, Thomas had been horrifically embarrassed, ashamed both for his foolish naïveté, and for how inconsiderate he'd been in leaving the pub before Richard had arrived. He'd thought Richard had felt disgusted after learning what Thomas was, and annoyed at having to fetch him. 

Richard had indeed been disappointed -- but also wonderfully understanding. And if Richard could forgive Thomas getting himself thrown in _jail_ after having stood Richard up, then maybe Richard was someone who was forgiving enough in general that he _could_ love Thomas, despite the butler's many flaws. Especially if Thomas resolved to be on his best behavior henceforth, to not give Richard any _reason_ to find him wanting. (Thomas might not be anywhere near perfect, but he'd been doing _better_ since his near-death experience two years ago, hadn't he?) 

Of course, being better meant endeauvoring to be a model employee (among other things). As such, he resolved to get back to work right away, even if the Crawleys were going to spend the night elsewhere. Allowing himself one last admiring glance at the horse brass, Thomas attached it to the chain of his pocket-watch, then reattached the chain to his vest, so that he might have the trinket with him always. 

~ @ ~ 

Thomas spent the day going about the abbey, fixing things back as they _should_ be, as opposed to how the royal servants had felt they _ought_ to be. Really, it was astounding how much the visitors had disrupted the natural order of the house! And who on Earth had been plucking books from the library shelves and then put them back _out of order?_

He was just finishing with fixing the books, when His Lordship came in. 

"Oh, Barrow! Are you, uh ... back to it, or ...?" 

Thomas felt like someone had tied his gut in a knot. Swallowing hard, he replied, "Well, I just thought ... there's so much to do, why wait?" 

"Splendind!" His Lordship seemed relieved; Thomas felt the knot loosen. Then His Lordship seemed sheepish. "I, uh, was a little afraid you wouldn't _want_ to, after ...." 

It was the butler's turn to be chagrined. "To be honest, Your Lordship, I wasn't sure if I would be _welcome_, after the way I spoke to you. I'm sorry for that." 

"I appreciate it, Barrow, but I owe you an apology myself. Mary had literally sprung the news of what she'd done _just_ before you'd come in the room. I should have demanded a more thorough explanation from you _both_, but ... well, for one, you didn't exactly give me a _chance_ ..." He gave Thomas a pointed look. 

Thomas shrank beneath it, remembering his outburst; he really _hadn't_ let His Lordship defend himself. 

"And for another," Lord Grantham continued, "she _is_ the estate manager now, and it didn't seem right to yank the metaphorical reins back out of her hands. Nor, for that matter, did I want to yank the opportunity back from Carson -- especially as, if I recall, Mary had said in the first place, when we made you butler, that Carson _should_ be in charge for big events." 

Thomas cringed. "Now that I think on it, milord, I'm afraid you're right -- she did indeed say as much." 

His Lordship waved a hand dismissively. "Be that as it may, after she elaborated on what exactly had happened, I did explain to her that _you_ were in the right about polishing the silver. Andy had plenty of other things to do; it would have been a complete waste to have him polish any of the silver to full buff, only for the page to tell you to use other pieces instead. I told her that, if she wasn't about to tell the _king_ what should or shouldn't be done, it was unreasonable to expect _you_ to override his page's decisions." 

It warmed Thomas to heard His Lordship defend him -- and yet, it also made him feel worse. "I appreciate your understanding, Your Lordship, but still, I shoulder the blame -- Lady Mary was under a lot of stress, and I see now that I could have better explained it all to her." 

His Lordship snorted. "As if she would have given you the chance! Besides, it's not like _you_ weren't under a great deal of stress yourself. Hence that outburst." 

"That was ... incredibly rude and unprofessional of me, Your Lordship, and I--" 

"Actually, I was rather _impressed_, Barrow," Grantham admitted. 

Thomas blinked. "Sir?" 

"Despite your understandable outrage, you were still diplomatic, still _reasonable_ in your handling of the situation, even if your tone was heated. Besides, I don't want anyone under this roof to be afraid of telling me when they feel they have been treated unfairly. You didn't up and quit, either -- not that I would have blamed you if you had. And you even reported the boiler issue, rather than leaving it to be found out by Carson later! No, Barrow, I find you to be a man of integrity who cares about this house as much as we do, and we'd be at loss if you left -- Carson is no longer butler for a reason, and I'm convinced no one else could fill his shoes as capably. Not even, it seems, the royal Page of the Backstair!" 

Thomas stifled a grin, trying to maintain a dignified air. "I appreciate that, milord -- thank you. I truly hope I will be here for many years to come." 

"As do I, Barrow." Grantham patted him on the shoulder. 

Touch-starved as he tended to be, the contact made Thomas shiver with a flush of warmth -- the sort not unlike what he felt when his father had praised him and acted with affection. 

Knowing now that His Lordship had stood up for Thomas, the butler felt a sudden urge to come clean about his arrest -- but stifled it, not wanting Lord Grantham to regret keeping his home open to Thomas when the butler had nearly brought a scandal to the door. (Besides, telling the story would require revealing that a member of the royal household had lied to the police on his behalf -- granted, he didn't _think_ His Lordship would report that, much less that anyone would realise it was Richard who'd done it, but still, it wouldn't be right to risk Richard's well-being, even just a little bit). 

It saddened him, though, that he also couldn't talk to anyone about what happened _later_ with Richard. Thumbing the treasure in his pocket, he wanted to shout it from the rooftop .... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually know if what Richard gave Thomas was a horse brass, but that seems to me a reasonable guess -- I could see him finding one on the ground and saving it because it looked cool, or for luck, or as a momento from a horse he'd worked with.
> 
> I reckon there'll be at least two more chapters -- one's close to done. How many times is this dang series going to make it so that I feel the need to write a canon-compliant fic where Thomas is finally accepted?? I kid, I love doing it, even if I still wish FELLOWES would do it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is reminded that he has allies downstairs -- perhaps even a new one!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, everyone who read, commented, and/or kudos-ed on the first chapter! It really helps to know people actually enjoy what I'm doing! *mwah!*

"How are things here, Mrs Patmore -- need any help?" Thomas asked cheerfully as he came into the kitchen. 

Patmore and Daisy turned to him, both their brows furrowed in confusion, each a mirror image of the other (in expression, at least). 

"Why would you want to do that?" Daisy asked in turn, as if Thomas had asked something more along the lines of whether they minded if he walk around starkers. 

"Maybe Hell's frozen over," Patmore suggested in a stage whisper. 

The butler's good mood soured. _Well, you can't really blame them for being surprised,_ he chided himself. "Thought I might try to be a little nicer, is all," he shrugged, biting back a more scathing reply. "But if I'd only be in the way, I'll leave you to it." And he turned to go. 

"Well, now, I didn't say that," Mrs Patmore pointed out. "There's a sink full of dishes there, if you're still of a mind to help out." 

Wordlessly, he took his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves, then turned on the water taps, adjusting the temperature as hot as he could stand it before adding soap. Beside him in the narrow space between sink and table, Daisy noisily whisked; on the other side of the table, Patmore loudly chopped. 

The whisking was suddenly silent. Then, "What happened to you?" Daisy asked.

"What'dya mean?" Thomas asked back, baffled. 

"Your wrists!" She slid a finger down the thin, white scar of his right arm. 

(The chopping stilled.) 

Like with Grantham, he shivered at the contact -- people rarely touched him, and no one _ever_ touched him _there_. "Er, cat scratches," he replied, quickly grabbing a plate and dunking his hands in the suds. 

He'd swear he could feel Patmore's eyes boring holes in his back, before the chopping started back up. 

"You about done, Daisy?" came Andy's voice as the footman stepped into the kitchen. "Oh, hallo, Mr Barrow -- are you back now?" 

"Yes, since this afternoon," Thomas replied, not bothering to point out that Carson was still technically butler till morning -- the man and Mrs Hughes had left early, since the Crawelys were gone. 

"Daisy, I can finish that," Patmore spoke up. "Is it all right if they go, Mr Barrow?" 

Thomas felt a sudden trepidation at the idea of being alone with Patmore, now that she knew about his scars, but if he was going to be nicer, this was as good of a time and place as any to start. "Yes, yes, off with the pair of you, before I change my mind," he chuckled, very nearly actually feeling the good humour he pretended to have. 

After the noise of the departing couple faded, there was a long moment of painfully awkward silence (aside from the resumed sounds of chopping and washing). 

"So, did you enjoy your time off, Mr Barrow?" Patmore asked after several minutes, somehow making Thomas feel even _more_ awkward. Was there sarcasm in her words? Was she poking fun at the fact that he'd been _demoted_ for a bit? 

Thomas then considered that maybe part of his problem was assuming the worst of people. "It didn't really start out the best, but it finished well," he replied, keeping busy with the dishes as he spoke. "I suppose everyone was glad for the break from me!" he added with a chuckle. 

"Oh, now, I wouldn't say that. Honestly, Mr Barrow, you really have been doing a fine job," she (to his shock) assured him. "And _you_ would have been on board with the plan to give the royal staff what-for -- I was half afraid Mr Carson was going to confess all to His Lordship. By the by, thank you for helping us." 

He smirked. "Believe me, Mrs Patmore, I wanted that Wilson bloke taken down a peg as much as the rest of you did. But I thank you -- and I'll try my best to not make the lot of you gang up on _me_, now that I've seen you all in action!" 

She chuckled. "That reminds me, how _did_ you get Mr Wilson to send the staff away?" 

Thomas wondered whether he should be telling her. On the one hand, who knew if she might use it against him later? And again, he didn't want to put Richard at risk. On the other, he wanted to keep her amiable. "Let's just say Mr Wilson apparently can't tell one person from another on the phone." Finished washing the last dish, he took a plate up to dry, turning to face her as he did. "Say, what are you making, anyway?" One didn't usually cut up ingredients unless one was about to put them _in_ something, lest they lose their freshness. 

She finished cutting, pushing the contents of her cutting board into the bowl of mixture Daisy had been whisking. "A frittata for the servant's breakfast tomorrow morning -- I'm using some of the ingredients from our fancy chef friend. I've got that special brunch at the B&B, you'll remember, so I won't be here, and I thought this would be a nicer cold breakfast than cold oatmeal."

"That's kind of you, Mrs Patmore -- it sounds lovely!" It really did! 

She seemed surprised. "Well, thank you, Mr Barrow!" she replied as she poured the mix into the cups of a muffin pan. 

Jesus, was a simple thank-you _really_ so remarkable coming from him? Perhaps he was even worse behaved than he'd thought! 

He turned back to the sink for another plate, pondering what to say next. What were her interests ...? "So, how _are_ things at you bed-and-breakfast?" 

"Booming!" she replied cheerfully. "We're booked full for the next month -- it's come to the point where we're having to turn people away!" 

"Well, I'm glad for you, Mrs Patmore. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if the king himself came back to Downton just for your cooking!" Wait, did that sound as insincere to her as it did to him? He turned around to face her again. 

He found her comically paused, her arms full of another batch of dishes, eyeing him with painfully obvious skepticism. 

He sighed, then smiled ruefully. "I mean it, truly. I know I don't say it enough, but ... well, you're an excellent cook, and I thank you for it. And ... I'm sorry for ever behaving in such a way that makes it hard to believe me." 

His cheeks heating under her scrutiny, he turned once more to the counter, taking up a bowl to dry. She came up beside him, laying her pile beside the sink. 

"I do thank you for the compliment, Mr Barrow. Now, would you rather wash or dry?" 

"Wash," he smiled, reflecting that maybe the mark of a respectable leader was taking up the harder and more menial tasks yourself, rather than thinking yourself above them. (And really, there was something satisfying in doing the work, he found, knowing that one wen the extra mile to make the house the best it could be, and making life easier for others in the process.) 

_Wait -- does this mean I have a martyr complex?_ he suddenly wondered. (Being a better person was surprisingly hard!) Thinking on it as he washed, he decided that, if he never drew _attention_ to the helpful things he did, didn't do it with the expectations of accolades, then maybe it was still nice(-ish?) and not a matter of making himself a martyr? Well, so long as he also didn't pat _himself_ on the back .... 

And maybe someday, he would learn to do nice things _instinctually_. 

As he finished the last dish, he heard footsteps in the hall; a few seconds later, the voice of Bates came from the door. "We're about to--Oh! Mr Barrow, are you back?" 

"Yes," Thomas replied, managing to keep the tightness from his voice (he hoped) as he faced the man, finding Anna beside her husband, their toddler in her arms. Perhaps Bates had only been curious, not surprised or disappointed by the possibility of Thomas being back before morning (or not having been sacked). 

"Oooh, let me see the wiggly one!" crooned Mrs Patmore, hurrying to meet them. 

Mentally shrugging, Thomas dried his arms and followed. 

Patmore had the boy's attention -- until Thomas stepped beside her. Then, the boy looked at Thomas with eyes full of wonder. (If only his parents were always similarly in awe ....) 

"This is Mr Barrow," Anna told her son. "Do you remember Mr Barrow?" 

Little John nodded and waved. "Watch man!" 

Anna and Bates exchanged confused looks with each other -- and Phyllis, who stood behind them. "Watch what, Little John?" Anna asked her son. 

"Oh!" Thomas remembered a moment in the nursery a few months back, when Nanny had needed to use the loo; the tyke had been crying, and Thomas, at his wit's end on how to quiet the boy, had pulled out his pocket-watch to amuse the child. "He means this," he explained, pulling out his watch again -- only to remember Richard's gift too late. "Uh, hold on ... " He quickly removed the trinket before holding the watch out to the child. 

But the boy had already seen the shiny piece, and made a grab for it. 

Thomas lifted it higher, out of the boy's reach. "No, no, lad, not that, sorry. This was a special gift," he added in explanation to the boy's parents. 

"Sorry about that, Mr Barrow," Bates apologised. "That's not for you, little man," he chided his son. "It's Mr Barrow's. You can't have something just because you want it." 

"But you can still play with _this_ for a minute, lad," Thomas reiterated, shaking the watch, finally drawing the toddler's attention to it. 

"Hey, let's sit down, yeah?" Anna suggested. "We were about to play Kings in the Corner, if you want to join us, Mr Barrow." 

"I'd love to!" He really would! "But is the family back?" Thomas asked, confused as to why they were even still at Downton at all. 

"Oh, no, they let us have the night off," Phyllis explained. 

"Since the royal staff is _also_ at the hall, along with those who live there, and they changed before they left anyway, it wouldn't make sense for everyone to bring their own servants," Bates elaborated. 

"Ah. Given how things went here, that's wise of them," Thomas approved. "I don't envy them trying to find accommodations for everyone! But then again, imagine if the house staff pulled what _we_ did, and sent the royal staff packing?"

That earned a hearty laugh from everyone. 

(The new memory of their effort was a rare bit of happiness, and warmed him. When Anna had asked for his helped in the first place, it had pleased rather than annoyed him; he'd appreciated being remembered, included, and looked to for advice! Especially considering how he'd laughed off their initial plea for help ....) 

They sat around the servants' hall table, Thomas at the head, Phyllis to his right, with Patmore to hers, and Anna to his left, with her husband to hers. Little John sat in his mother's lap. (Since the game was for four people, she opted to sit out, what with her hands full with the toddler.) Surprisingly, the toddler didn't stick the watch in his mouth, instead seeming enthralled by the movement of the hands, and by how the watch opened and closed. 

"You like that? Maybe someday I'll teach you how to make your own," Thomas chuckled as he dealt the cards. 

Save for Phyllis, the adults around the table were suddenly like owls, blinking with wide eyes. 

"Are you telling us you _made_ that?" Patmore asked, her eyebrows nearly migrating into her hairline. 

Thomas decided to enjoy their shock, rather than be annoyed that they _were_ shocked in the first place. 

"Did Mr Barrow never mention?" Phyllis asked, looking to him in surprise. 

He shrugged, studying his cards; he supposed he hadn't told anyone outside of O'Brien and Jimmy, come to think of it. "Guess it never came up." That's what happened when people didn't ask after you: they never learned anything _about_ you. Once upon a time, he'd preferred it that way, because knowing one thing could lead to knowing others that were dangerous to his health. But now .... 

"His father was a clockworker," Phyllis revealed. "He was even _apprenticed_ to him!" Her smile fell -- likely it occurred to her that she might have said more than he would have liked. 

He didn't mind, though. "For a while, anyway," he added with another shrug, to put her at ease. 

"But then, why did you leave ho... oh, never mind, it's not my business," Patmore hurriedly apologised and turned her attention to her own hand, clearly already having guessed why he would have left that future behind. 

What he did next might have been a little vindictive of him, but floodgates of a sort had opened with Richard. Any resolve he'd had that afternoon to keep quiet, when he'd been talking to His Lordship, faded, now that he was with his social peers. 

"It's indeed what you think, Mrs Patmore -- my father discovered my shade, and so cast me out." He hoped he succeeded in keeping the bite from his voice. 

Patmore looked ashen, so maybe not. 

Thomas stifled the part of him that was glad to see it -- _that_ part had only ever led him into trouble. "I'm sorry, Mrs Patmore, Anna, Phyllis, I don't mean to be indelicate." He touched the horse brass, now laying on the table beside him, for a moment, for strength. "But at the same time ... I'm tired of pretending around people _who already know_." (Surely Bates had told Anna, if she hadn't figured it out for herself. As for Patmore, Andy had eventually admitted that she had been one of the people -- the other being Carson -- who had warned him what kind of a man Thomas was. Thus, Thomas strongly suspected that Patmore was the one who'd complained to Carson about the time he'd been spending with the lad, prompting Carson to question him.) "This is my _life_, we're talking about. I _can't help what I am_ \-- and if you don't believe me, ask Dr Clarkson. I tried medication, therapy, hypnotism, _electro-shock_ therapy--" 

There was another round of boggling from everyone (save, again, for Phyllis, who already knew). Anna grabbed his bad hand -- the hand no one dared touch -- without the slightest hint of revulsion. Again, the warmth washed through him; he squeezed her hand a moment to reassure her that he was fine now. At the show of sympathy, he felt emboldened to continue while Bates started the game. 

"Anyway, nothing worked. At one point, I was giving myself shots, and got an infection from it. When I told Dr Clarkson what the shots were for ... well, he said there's no cure for what I am. Phyllis can vouch for that." 

"I'm sure I don't _need_ to," she replied, laying a hand on his arm a moment, "but yes, I can." 

"And then, when Carson said I had to leave--" Thomas didn't point out that no one _else_ had been expected to, despite his seniority "--a few of the places I inquired to replied that they were ... _suspicious_ of the fact that I hadn't married. I tried to distract myself by teaching Andy how to read, but someone--" (he was careful to keep his voice neutral) "--apparently worried about us interacting, and, considering what had happened with Jimmy, Carson gave me a warning." He didn't dare glance to see if Patmore looked like she felt at all guilty. "I suppose I can't entirely blame him, but it just ... it drove home how unacceptable it was for me to be what I am, and ... how little my presence was tolerated." 

He took his turn of the game, then spoke on. "And ... well, it sounds paranoid now, but every day that passed after that just seem to reinforce for me how unwanted I was, no matter how much I _tried_ to be nicer. I mean, okay, sure, looking back on it now, I hadn't, _before_ then, given people a lot of reason to give me a _chance_ to be better ... but all the same, the loneliness got more and more unbearable. I started getting desperate enough to say out loud that I wish I had sommat to do like others did, or that I could go to this event or that with people ... and all I got was a reminder one time from Carson that I should be looking for employment elsewhere, instead of having any fun or relaxation." 

"I had thought that unkind of him -- I should have said something to His Lordship. I'm sorry I didn't," Bates weighed in. 

"I appreciate the thought," Thomas nodded. "I never exactly gave you reason to help me, but you _did_ that other time, so I'm still in your debt, really. Anyway," he went on, "that reprimand was right after everyone talked about having a picnic to celebrate Molesley and Daisy having taken their tests. Given the Sword of Damocles hanging over me, reminding me every moment of every day that my time at Downton was coming to an end, it hurt even more than usual to not be included -- but I ended up going anyway when you forgot the lemonade, you remember, Mrs Patmore?" She nodded, looking wary (probably remembering where this story was going). "I _had_ been happy to have a reason to be there anyway ... but then it came out that I had been teaching Andy to read. That schoolteacher fellow went and announced _he_ was going to teach Andy _instead_, and that I should stay out of it -- so there went Andy's reason to spend time with me. And then I came back to the house that afternoon, and found Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes hanging out in the library -- and when I asked if I could join them, they said no, rather coldly, and left. I became pretty sure that day that _no one_ could wait to see the back of me -- and that, even if I found a new job, no one at it would see fit to _welcome_ me. That I was fundamentally unlovable, and I should take the hint that the world was better off without me." He suddenly found himself fighting back tears. 

He picked the horse brass up, focusing on it -- and on how he'd felt when, after remarking offhandedly that he wished he could go to York like Richard, _Richard had actually invited him to come with._ Someone in the world _wanted his company_. 

As he mused, Phyllis took his right hand. "I wish you would have _said_ something to me. I thought you understood, after I went with you to Clarkson, that I'm your friend." She squeezed his fingers in emphasis. 

Squeezing back, he gave her a grateful smile, ducking his head in shame. He'd thought she'd been there for him because That's What Good People Do, no because she actually _wanted_ to be around him. "I know, I just ... after how I'd treated you, it didn't feel right, imposing my company on you any further. Plus, well, it seems Molesly's always ... around." He almost said following her like a little lost lamb. 

"Thomas, those early days ... that's water under the bridge," she insisted. 

"Still, I never apologised for it, and yet you've been there for me time and again anyway -- even saved my life! So I'm saying it now: I'm sorry. I hope never to be that man again. And I'm grateful more than I could ever say for how you've always been there for me, no matter how hard I tried to push you away." 

She kissed his cheek. "And _I'm_ grateful you're still with us. You're the closest thing to a brother I have!" 

Those words hit him harder than he would ever have imagined; it was hard to say if his cheeked burned from the kiss or him blushing. 

Patmore seemed to realise something while he mentally collected himself. "That time a couple years ago, shortly before you left, when you had the flu ..." she remembered, "I'd thought it odd, as you've always been hale as a horse -- didn't even get sick when the Spanish Influenza hit and you were helping to care for those who fell ill. But then ... you _weren't_ down with the flu after all, were you? What _really_ happened is what those scars on your wrists are from, aren't they? _That's_ what you mean by Miss Baxter saving your life -- she found you?" She sounded sorry that he'd been driven to try. 

Oddly, that fact didn't make him feel better. 

He nodded. "So there you have it -- I've _tried_ to do something about what I am, but found that all I can do is live with it -- whether I want to or not," he chuckled. "Now, I just try my best to be happy in a world that doesn't think I have a _right_ to be." He shook his head at himself. "Sorry, that was a maudlin note to end the day on. I apologise for dragging you all to my pity-party." 

"Don't be sorry," Anna insisted. "I only wish we'd known what you were going through _when it was happening!_ Maybe we could have helped." 

He shook his head. "I know full well that my shade isn't the _only_ reason that I have found friends to be in short supply," he replied ruefully. "I've spent much of my time in this world being jealous of what other people had and I wanted, and never really saw and enjoyed what I _could_ have. I pushed people away because I didn't want to be hurt by them first -- so ultimately, I had no right to be surprised at ending up alone." 

"Well, _I_ seem to remember us agreeing to be friends, Mr Barrow," Bates replied. "At least, I meant it when I said I should like us to be." 

Thomas looked up at Bates, it being the butler's turn to be surprised. "I appreciate that, Mr Bates. I owe you a long-overdue apology too, for how I behaved when you arrived -- I'm truly sorry." 

Bates nodded. "Forgiven. I mean, I understand -- you had seniority, but you hadn't even been _offered_ the job, and here comes this lame old man who can't even carry ...." 

Thomas ducked his head. "Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. I took pride in doing my job, and felt like that wasn't being recognised. But that wasn't _your_ fault -- and really, his Lordship had every right to choose someone he felt comfortable with. Anyway, I _shall_ try harder to be a better friend _now_ than I have been thus far. Well, if I can figure out _how_," he added with a chuckle. 

"We _have_ seen you making the effort, Mr Barrow, and we appreciate it," Anna assured him. "And if you find yourself in a situation that you're not sure how to handle, we're always here if you need a sounding board -- or a shoulder, or a helping hand." 

Thomas smiled ruefully. "You've all been far, far kinder to me that I've recognised or deserved. Really, the fact that Phyllis here realised what happened to me, and the care she and you gave me after, proves that I _wasn't_ actually as unseen or unwanted as I'd _thought_." 

"Well ... we all can get a little too wrapped up in our own lives to be able to see what others are going through," Patmore said, her voice small, "but for what it's worth, I'm sorry I haven't been very considerate of your feelings, Mr Barrow." 

He looked to her, and a thought occurred to him. "I didn't exactly ingratiate you to myself in the first place, did I? I mean, I was awful to William -- _and_ I toyed with Daisy. I wish I could take it back now; William were a good lad. I _should_ apologise to Daisy -- not sure how to start that conversation, though. 'Hey, Daisy, do you remember when I flirted with you, to make William mad? Yeah, sorry about that!'" 

"Yeeeaah, it's probably best that you don't bother with that," Patmore advised. "I doubt she even _realised_ that was what was happening anyway. Just be nicer to her from now on, and all will be well between us. But yes, I admit, that behavior did _not_ impress me. Why _did_ you do it?" 

Thomas shrugged. "I'd lost my home and family, was angry at the world ... and here was this good-lookin' lad I knew would never be interested in me. So he was ... in the line of fire, I guess you could say. It burned me that he could have every happiness that I _wasn't_ allowed to have. And there was a part of me that was upset that I couldn't truly return Daisy's affections, so I ... I guess I got a sort of perverse pleasure out of the fact that William couldn't seem to get from her what I couldn't get from _him_. I'm not proud of that, mind." 

"Well, I guess it just goes to show that there's always more to a story than we know," she mused, taking her turn at the game. Then, "So, that horse-brass -- that's from a _sweetheart_, isn't it?" 

Thomas bit back the knee-jerk urge to tell her to mind her own business. People asking after him, taking an interest, was what he _wanted_, wasn't it? But how much to tell her? "It is," he reluctantly replied. 

She looked at him like a specimen under glass, making him nervous. Finally, "I'm glad to hear it, Mr Barrow." 

He raised his brows at that. "You are?" 

She nodded, and he wasn't sure he should be upset or happy about the pity in her eyes. "You see, I ... please forgive me for saying this, but I never thought a loving relationship was something you were ... really _capable_ of. I thought you were ... well, just taking advantage of younger people. I'm glad to be proven wrong. And I never really thought about how difficult things must be for you; you deserve a chance to find happiness, just like everyone else." 

He realised another thing. "So, did you know about what happened with Jimmy, then?" 

"O'Brien told me -- I wasn't sure whether to believe it, but the way Jimmy acted seemed confirmation. So I got to talking to Alfred, and he inadvertently confirmed it, because he thought I'd already been told." 

Thomas made a mental note to stay on the woman's good side -- she could give him a run for his money in the spy game! "I imagine she failed to mention that the _reason_ I kissed Jimmy--" 

It was finally time for Phyllis to be shocked. "You _did_?" 

"Yeah, because your predecessor, O'Brien, convinced me that Jimmy liked me, and would _welcome_ it," Thomas groused. 

"Oh, dear! No, she did _not_ tell me that," Patmore confirmed. 

"Well, then, I suppose I can't blame you for thinking me some sort of predator, or worrying that I might do the same with Andy--" 

Here eyes flew comically wide at that, a flush spreading across her face. "I--" 

"I thought it would be romantic, like 'Sleeping Beauty'," he grumbled on. "My sort can't exactly wear our interest out in the open, so we have to just ... hope we're reading things right. And in that instance, I _thought_ it was a sure thing. But once bitten, twice shy, so contrary to people's assumptions of me, I haven't thrown myself at _anyone_ since." A smile bubbled to his lips as he thought of how Richard had initiated a kiss. "Thankfully, someone _else_ did the throwing this time." 

"So _tell_ us about this new fellow in your life!" Anna prompted with a sly grin. 

There was another flush of warmth. Here was someone asking after him, wanting to know about _his_ love-life, with no signs of being repulsed. He wondered if she even had any idea how much that meant to him. 

But still, Patmore was there -- how far did her new understanding extend? He looked to her. "I-I'm not sure I should ...." 

Patmore, unsurprisingly, cottoned on right away. "On my life, I won't tell a soul." Well, she was one supposedly of the good ones right? So her word was her bond? "I'm guessing this has something to do with how yesterday went ...?" she prodded. 

"Right. So ...." And he told them everything. 

How he'd done his usual fishing for an invitation when a member of the royal staff had mentioned going to York -- and was shocked when he'd actually _received_ it. How Richard had helped with the plot against the royal staff. How, even after all that, Thomas didn't get his hopes up -- and how those hopes, in fact, fell further and further as the night wore on and his new friend hadn't shown up. How an attractive stranger had convinced Thomas to leave with him -- and how the place they'd gone to had rocked his world. How much it had meant to him to see so many men like him, to know he wasn't such an aberration as he'd long thought. And then, he talked about the terror he felt when he was arrested, feeling like he'd been brought to the gates of Paradise, only to be yanked down to Hell, terrified he had just lost everything. How he'd been ashamed when Richard had gotten him out -- until Richard had touched first his own lips, then the butler's, signaling that Richard was of his shade. How they'd spent the journey home talking about their respective experiences. And how, that morning, he'd asked Richard to write, and received, again to his happy shock, both a kiss and a token of Richard's affection in the bargain. 

His eyes had been on the horse brass the whole while he spoke, as he rolled it between his fingers, but he looked up when he was through. 

On Patmore, he found a thoughtful, small smile. "I'm happy for you, Mr Barrow. Truly." 

He believed her. 

"I am too -- it's so romantic!" Anna squealed. 

"Isn't it just?" Phyllis agreed, beaming, a hand over her heart. 

The moment reminded him suddenly of his sister gossiping to Baxter when they were younger; his heart twinged. But then, hadn't Anna been like a surrogate sister to him all these years, if he would have just stopped being angry long enough to see it? 

He smiled bashfully, ducking his head. "Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves -- he barely knows me. Maybe once he does, he won't be so eager." 

"Oh, I don't know -- forgive me for saying it, but you're a different man when you're in love," Bates assured him. "To Jimmy, you were only ever kind, that I saw." 

"Was I?" Thomas blinked. Should he be pleased or upset that Bates had been watching him enough to notice? Maybe they _all_ had seen him more than he'd realised. (But then, didn't that mean he was actively shunned, rather than merely forgotten? He shook the thought away; he should just endeavour to make sure they had no more _reason_ to shun him.) "Well, still, I shall try to be kinder to _everyone_, not just Richard." Then, "This is nice, talking like this. I mean, I well and truly thought talking about my love life was just another thing I'd never be able to do, but I _wanted_ to. It's nice to be able to share something that makes me happy." 

Phyllis grew thoughtful. "You know, I never really thought about that before -- that if you can't _share_ what makes you happy, it's well nigh impossible to to seem anything _but_ UNhappy to the world at large." 

"And it makes it harder to be around others when they share what makes _them_ happy," Thomas nodded, finally starting to feel understood by people who _weren't_ like him. 

Phyllis, Andy, the Bateses, and even His Lordship might have proved that Downton had a place him, but last night, in York, was the first time he'd ever felt like there was a place in the _outside_ for him, somewhere else that he was _wanted_ rather than at best tolerated. And now, he was realising that that world might include more than people who were just like him. He absentmindedly fiddled with Richard's gift as he glanced at Little John, who now slept in his mother's arms with the watch clutched in his fingers. Thomas remembered what Richard had said about how men wouldn't have imagined flying fifty years ago. Would this child, and George and Sybbe and Marigold, grow into a world where men like Thomas were well and truly accepted? Commonplace, even? 

He decided that if there were more parents out there like the Bateses, there was indeed a chance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can't remember if there was any scene involving Edith, Mary, and Anna off-site, at the house they went to for the ball, or if they got dressed before leaving Downton. If someone can confirm that they didn't get dressed until *after* arriving at the other house, I'll change it to say Anna & co. were sent home ....
> 
> Okay, next week through the end of October is promising to be a very busy time for me, so I apologise if it takes me a month or more to get the next chapter up (which will focus on the family, especially Edith -- I mean, he saved her life, and her husband's uncle was gay, so ...). (And if you see it sooner, it likely means I haven't been working on work, so admonish me. :P) Anyway, now I'm thinking it will be *four* chapters instead of three.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Anna accidentally tips her off, Edith decides to help Thomas with his love-life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very, very sorry for how long this has taken me!! I'm not the healthiest person, and there just isn't enough healthy-me left to go around. XD
> 
> Anyway, I've seen the _Downton Abbey_ movie again, and also gotten the making-of book -- Richard's gift is definitely a keychain, some sort of fancy shield with a sideways waxing crescent and I think some stars (the book doesn't have a picture), so probably indeed a family crest, as one of you suggested. Still could have been a horse-brass made *into* a keychain, so I shall leave it as such ....
> 
> Oh, here's a crazy thing: I sometimes will google my fics' titles to gage how well they are doing off-site (like in fic-recs links), and when I did this one, I came across THIS: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0374553/plotsummary?ref_=tt_ov_pl That is such a crazy coincidence, another Butler named Barrow, with a title with "Butler" and "Secret" in it! *Cue Twilight Zone theme*

The next day, as he and Albert watched the family cars pull up, Thomas, nervous about seeing Lady Mary again after all that had gone down, thumbed the brass in his pocket, thinking of steadfast Richard. The action calmed him. While Albert handled the rear car, with the Hexams, the Dowager, and Branson, Thomas held the door for the head car, with the Granthams and the Talbots. 

Lady Mary greeted him coolly -- but then, she was always cool as a cucumber, so who knew what that meant? At least she didn't seem angry -- she actually seemed a little sad, truth be told, but he didn't have the impression it had anything to do with him. And no one _else_ seemed sad, so hopefully it wasn't anything for the house to be worried about .... 

At dinner, Lady Mary was more her usual self; if she was at all angry with Thomas, she didn't show it. Perhaps she really had forgiven his outburst (however justified), or perhaps it was just that she was too busy grilling Tom Branson about a lady's maid who was set to inherit a relative's fortune. 

Thomas listened in with curiosity -- but for once, not with jealousy. Not against this Smith girl for somehow having gotten her foot in the high society door, much like Branson had done years ago, nor at Branson for having his budding relationship celebrated. From their conversation, Thomas suspected that this Lucy person was actually _more_ than a lady's maid, anyway, and he actually sympathised -- he knew what it was to have to hide one's true self. But he was out now, at least a little, and his friends had celebrated his own new relationship the night before. Indulging in pettiness now would just sour the butler's _own_ happiness. Under those conditions, he found himself actually feeling _glad_ for Branson. 

Besides, the conversation was educational; he'd been wondering what exactly to _say_ in his first letter to Richard, and the Crawley women were offering Tom some excellent advice .... 

~ @ ~ 

When Anna came up to Lady Mary's room that evening, she found Lady Edith (she would always think of her that way) there. From what little she'd heard before knocking on the door and being welcomed in, the pair seemed to have been talking about Mr Branson, but had dropped the conversation at her arrival.

"So, Anna! You _must_ give us the scoop on how our own staff ended up serving the King," Mary insisted without preamble. "Father put me under the impression that we weren't _allowed_ to run our own house when the King was here." Mary sounded like she wanted proof her that father was wrong. 

"Well, if the King's Page of the Back Stair had had his way, we very well _wouldn't_ have, milady. The man was absolutely dreadful -- even Mr. Carson got taken down a peg by him and his cohorts! They made it very clear that we weren't allowed to do _anything_." 

Mary looked surprisingly alarmed at that. "Even _Carson_ ...? So Papa was _right_!" 

Edith glanced at her sister curiously. "About what?" 

"Never mind -- Anna, finish your story!" 

Anna was torn. Mary was her friend, but also her employer -- what if Mary felt everyone belowstairs had overstepped their bounds? Mary didn't always understand what life for a non-aristocrat was like. (Honestly, it was part of why she thought Mary entertaining the idea of living a "normal life" was an atrociously bad idea -- Mary, who hadn't ever even bought her own contraceptives, would be entirely out of her depth in the real world.) "Well ... let's just say that even a royal servant can't anticipate _every_ problem," Anna hedged, then began to help Mary out of her dress. 

Mary gave her a wry smile. "Why does it sound like you've been taking lessons in Machiavellian plotting from Grand-Mama?" Then she winced ever so slightly; Anna would have asked what was wrong, but knew Mary wouldn't want to appear vulnerable in front of Edith. "Surely you can tell us _something_," Mary wheedled. "Upstairs, the whole affair was a tedious nuisance!" 

"I wish I could disagree, but I can't," Edith confirmed. Then, "Oh! I keep meaning to ask -- did something happen to Mr Barrow?" 

Mary scowled, looking annoyed. "What difference would that make to you?" 

Edith scowled back, looking perplexed. "The man saved my life -- why _wouldn't_ I take an interest? I didn't see him, and I noticed Carson was back -- you didn't _sack_ Barrow, did you?" 

Part of Anna felt she ought to feel defensive on Mary's behalf, but the truth of the matter was, she was proud of Edith for showing concern, and wished her lady would learn a thing or two from her sister. 

"No, I did not! But if you must know," Mary sniffed, "I was concerned that Barrow was being too timid about the preparations. We were falling well behind, so I asked Carson to step in for the duration." 

"What does that even mean, 'too timid'?" Edith prodded. 

"He wouldn't let Andy put the final polish on the silver because he was waiting for the king's man to decide on the pieces, but we had a lot that needed to get done!" 

"But Anna just _told_ us that the King's Page wouldn't _let_ them do anything! Would you _want_ Barrow to defy the king?" Edith pointed out. Mary tried to protest, but Edith wasn't having it -- and Anna couldn't blame her. (Hearing what she was, right now, Anna felt a pang of sympathy for Barrow; really, it sounded like Mary could _use_ a dressing down!) "And was Andy siting around doing _nothing_, or was he doing _other_ things on the to-do list?" Edith pressed. 

That hadn't seemed to have even occurred to Mary, who sat with her mouth open for a solid three seconds before composing herself. "I've already heard most of that from Papa, after Barrow has a tantrum over my bringing Carson in. Really, though, Barrow should be glad -- he got to sit around while the rest of us were in a tizzy!" 

Edith rest her head against her knuckles. "I suppose that depends -- did he lose pay on top of being temporarily -- and _humiliatingly_ \-- demoted?" 

Mary sighed, exasperated. "Of course not!" 

Anna shared a glance with Edith; they both knew full well that Mary hadn't even _thought_ about it, and so Barrow had every reason to assume he _wouldn't_ be paid. Still, Anna felt bad for her friend: Mary was Mary's own worst enemy. 

"I think he _did_ ultimately have reason to be glad," Anna offered. "If Mr Barrow had been tied up with the house, he--" and she stopped herself just in time. Mary had shown herself to be understanding as far as Barrow's shade, and Anna was willing to bet Edith would likewise be understanding, but still, this news wasn't Anna's to tell. And what if she was wrong about Mary's acceptance? if Mary was still perturbed about Barrow, might she use his budding relationship as a reason to sack him?

Anna wished she didn't have to entertain the possibility, that she could trust Mary to be kind .... 

"Anna, he what? Come on, now, you can't leave us dangling like that!" Mary prodded. 

Edith suddenly looked delighted. "Did Barrow _meet_ someone?" 

While Anna had gotten better at lying over the years, Edith had caught her off-guard. She didn't answer verbally, but by the evil glint in Edith's eyes, Anna's silence had served as an answer. Anna sent Barrow an equally silent apology. 

"Good for him!" Edith crowed as her sister boggled. Then Edith grew thoughtful. "I wonder if I might help him out ...." 

Mary looked intrigued. "Help him _how?_" 

"Well, I don't recall if I told you this, but Bertie's late uncle -- the one who named Bertie his heir? Was of the same shade as Barrow ...." 

Mary caught on quickly. "And as such, his home was something of a ... _safe place?_" 

Edith nodded. "Not just for him, either, but also for people in his employ -- and as Bertie adored his uncle, and wasn't bothered by his shade, we've made sure to _keep_ things that way." 

Anna's guilt evaporated in the light of this possible opportunity to help Barrow. "This new friend of his is one of the king's valets -- one who I guess arrives before the king?" It made no sense to Anna. 

Apparently it did to Edith, though. "That's perfect! Next time the king comes for a visit, around Christmas, we'll invite Barrow to visit just before, when the spare valet will be there!" 

"Oh, sure, you'll just invite a butler to stay with you!" Mary rolled her eyes. 

"Well, I don't see why not -- can't I show gratitude for him saving my life?" 

Anna was with Mary on this one -- it would be too out of the ordinary, drawing too much attention to him. "Or perhaps you could invite your _parents_," Anna suggested, "and His Lordship could take Thomas as his valet, like he did when he went to America?" It wasn't beyond reason to think John would rather stay behind than be separated from his family. (Especially under the circumstances!) 

Edith nodded thoughtfully. "I'm sure Mama could talk him into it, if Papa drags his heels at the idea." 

"You should take up matchmaking as a profession," Mary smirked, launching into the story of Branson's new love, and Edith's encouragement of their correspondence. "Maybe you should help Barrow write to his boyfriend!" Mary had this special talent for sounding both like she was kidding and in earnest at the same time. 

"I may well do just that," Edith replied, clearly already plotting. 

~ @ ~ 

As they lay snuggled in bed that night, Edith told Bertie of her conversation with Mary and Anna about Barrow, and her subsequent plot. "It'll be tricky, helping him without revealing Anna told us about it, though -- he can be ... _prickly_," or so Anna had always told them, "and I don't want him to stop trusting Anna. She only told us in the first place to placate Mary, and really, Barrow can't afford to lose any allies, I don't think." 

"His boyfriend is secondary valet to the king, you say?" Bertie asked. "Unless he's left his position and not told me, that's my old Eaton schoolmate, Richard Ellis!" 

Edith sat up sharply. "Wait, you _know_ this fellow?" 

"If we have the same fellow in mind, yes!" Bertie sat up as well. "My uncle's shade was something of an open secret at Eaton, and as such, Ellis felt safe confiding in me that he was lavender too. My uncle helped him out with a long-distance correspondence -- it didn't last, mind, which I suppose is all the better for Mr Barrow. Perhaps I should reach out to Ellis and let him know we still have the system set up ...." 

"System?" 

Bertie nodded. "It's quite clever, actually. We have Sapphic maids who re-write letters for the lavender men on staff -- and the men, in turn, rewrite letters for the maids. That way, it looks like everyone is getting letters from the opposite sex. Granted, it means that someone's always privy to the _contents_ of their letters, but that's why the system was started in the first place -- to alleviate the worry that one's mail might be read by an outside party. And in Ellis and Barrow's case, they'd have the added benefit that the letters would never be coming or going directly to their destination. People looking at Barrow's mail would think he has a _girl_ at _our_ home, not that he's got a _boyfriend_ in the _king's_ home." 

"That's _perfect!_" Edith cooed, hugging her wonderful, clever husband. "So how do we get them set up?" 

Bertie was silent for a moment. Then, "I think we need to be honest with Barrow. I mean, I _could_ talk to Ellis instead, but I don't think we'd be doing either of them any favours by asking him not to reveal how _we_ knew about them." 

"No, we wouldn't," Edith agreed weakly; secrets had almost kept her and Bertie from the altar, after all. 

Bertie drew her close, kissing her cheek. "I'll talk to Barrow tomorrow, shall I?" 

She nodded, praying their attempt to help wouldn't blow up in their faces. 

~ @ ~ 

The next morning, being ahead of his usual work (thanks to the family being away), Thomas, sitting in his office, finally sat down to write his first letter. Based on the suggestions he heard from the Crawley women to Branson, he told Richard about his favourite books, about how he loved to play sports but not so much to watch them, about seeing America, and about places he'd like to see someday. (He decided to hold back on heavier things, like how he'd ended up at Downtown, or how he'd nearly been sacked, for a later letter.) 

A knock at his door found him scrambling to hide the letter under the blotter on his desk, despite there not being anything incriminating in the pages. He started to tell the visitor to come in, but had to pause to clear the squeak from his voice. And he scrambled to his feet when Lord Hexam stuck his head into the room. 

"Ah, Barrow, have I caught you at a bad time?" 

"No, no, not at all, milord. What can I do for you?" 

The marquess carefully closed -- and locked, Thomas noted with alarm -- the door behind him, then sat in the chair opposite Thomas. "Please, sit," Hexam requested -- and Thomas did, his knees, getting weak with nervousness, not really giving him any choice. What did this man want, that they should need to _sit_? 

"It's not so much what you can do for _me_, as what I can do for _you_." 

Somehow, this didn't make Thomas any less nervous. 

"First, let me preface this by saying that I know you once saved my wife's life, and as such, we owe you a life debt." 

Thomas was surprised by this, wondering if the man meant a plural or royal 'We'. 

"We only want to help you -- and you should believe with every fiber of your being that your friend Anna only wants what's best for you." 

Thomas felt his gut clench in understanding -- and terror. Anna had told Lady Hexam about Richard?? Was Lord Hexam now about to suggest therapy or some religious retreat to "cure" Thomas, then? Thomas tightened his grip on the arms of his chair, to keep the rage from bursting forth and catapulting him across the desk at this man. And then the rage was tempered by grief - he'd thought Anna his friend! 

"You see ... my dear uncle was of the same shade as you, and he was ... the _best_ man I've ever known," Lord Hexam revealed. 

Thomas blinked. Had he heard that right? 

"I don't believe in the _slightest_ that there is anything inherently evil in said shade," Hexam went on, Thomas feeling like he was falling farther and farther down a rabbit hole the more the man spoke. "With that in mind, after my uncle died, when I took over the house, I left everything as it was. His lover still has his job as my butler, and oversees a staff that is more ... _lavender_ than not." 

For a moment, Thomas wondered if he was being offered a job. Would being a footman in this house be as good as being butler at Downton? 

But Hexam wasn't finished, it seemed. "Now, as I understand it, the staff have a system in place ..." and the man explained how Thomas might use that staff to communicate with a potential lover. "If I understand correctly, your new friend is Richard Ellis? If so, he and I were schoolmates at Eaton, and he's familiar with the system." 

Thomas felt another twinge in his gut -- had Richard used it often? 

Did he still use it _now?_

"He's not used it _recently_, mind," Hexam then assured Thomas. (Had Thomas left his face so unguarded?) "I'm just saying, I can get in contact with him and get everything set up for you both, if you like." 

Thomas mind raced with the possibilities. Was this for real? Or was this some kind of trap? Hexam _seemed_ sincere -- and surely he wouldn't try to get the man who'd saved his wife sent to prison? He could maybe see Lady Mary having it in for him now, but then again, Lady Hexam had never been her sister's biggest fan, so he couldn't imagine she would try to help get him sacked -- especially not as he'd indeed saved her life. 

And then there was Anna -- they _were_ friends, weren't they? She'd even helped save his life, by fetching Dr Clarkson the day of his attempted suicide! Tricking him into _thinking_ they were friends now was something _O'Brien_, would have done, not kindly Anna! Even her plot against the royal staff had only been meant as a kindness to her coworkers -- none of the royal staff had actually been harmed. After he being so delighted over his new love life, Thomas couldn't see her acting out of maliciousness -- especially not after he'd helped her with her plot! 

But still, even if she'd been acting out of kindness when telling Lady Hexam about his situation, and even if Lord Hexam meant every word just now, things _could_ have gone very sideways, instead. How safe was it to have more people -- more potential secret-spillers -- involved in his affairs? How safe was it for _Richard?_

Except, if Hexam was to be believed, Hexam already _knew_ about Richard's secret -- had for _years_, and Richard seemed no worse for it. And, well, Hexam already knew about Thomas now, so there was still a risk even if Thomas _didn't_ take him up on his offer .... 

And then Thomas realised there was another party who deserved to have a say in all this. "I truly appreciate the offer, milord, but think I should talk to Richard first." 

"Oh! Quite right! Well, then -- you know how to reach me. I'll leave you to it." And he did. 

Thomas then hurried to relay this latest development (as indirectly as possible) in the letter to Richard, sending it off in the morning post. 

The butler almost literally ran into Anna in the hallway right after. His mouth opened to offer an apology for the near-collision, but the jumble of emotions -- outrage, hurt, and even, strangely, gratitude -- over what she'd done stilled his tongue. 

"Mr Barrow? Is everything all right?" 

After a few failed attempts at speech, he took hold of her wrist and ushered her into his office, gently closing the door after them. Running a hand through his hair, he began to pace. Finally, fighting back tears, he blurted, "You _told_ them? Anna, how _could_ you?" 

It was her turn to fight for words. 

"Lord Hexam came to see me this morning," he explained tightly. 

Her hand flew over her mouth a moment. Then, "Oh, Thomas! He didn't _threaten_ you?" 

He ignored her slip of using the wrong name. "Well, no. In fact, he ... he offered to _help_ me." 

"But that's _wonderful_! So why are you so upset?" 

"I'm not!" he replied, dropping into his chair and gesturing for her to do the same, which she did. "Well, all right, I _am_, because that was a very scary thing to have been faced with. For a moment, I was terrified I was headed to _jail_. It worked out, yes, but it _could_ have gone very badly -- _still_ could, really. The more people who know, the more the risk someone will _accidentally say the wrong thing to the wrong person_," he finished pointedly. 

She sighed, nodding. "If it helps at all, I _didn't_ actually say anything - not at _first_ ..." And she explained, from the beginning, what had happened. 

"So they _already_ knew," he sighed. "And everyone's managed to keep the secret for all these years ...." 

"Right! Lady Edith clearly only mentioned it to Lord Hexam because he's in a unique position to help you and ... Richard, was it?" 

Thomas nodded absently. "I've told Richard about the offer in the letter I sent just now; I'll let _him_ decide if we should take Lord Hexam up on it. As if I didn't already have reason to be chomping at the bit for Richard's reply," he added with a wry smile. 

Anna lay her hand over his. "I understand why you're nervous about accepting Lord Hexam's help, but if his Uncle has lived safely all these years with his butler, I suspect the household knows what they're on about. And I think you should take what help you can get -- that includes here." 

How different his life might have been if he'd known that in the first place, all those years ago. Granted, it wasn't like he could have discussed it with them, but maybe if he'd been kinder to the staff -- especially Anna .... "So, is Lady Mary still angry with me?" he asked, wincing. 

"If she is, it's because Edith and their father both gave her a strong talking-to over her behavior," Anna replied. "She might blame you for the dressing-down, however much she might deserve it." 

"Do _you_ think she did?" 

"I do, actually" Anna confirmed. "So does John." 

"Thank you for that," he replied quietly. 

She patted his hand, then got up to leave. 

"Do you think I should apologise?" he asked as she reached for the doorknob. 

"For getting her in trouble? She did that herself!" 

"Even so, it might smooth her feathers, so to speak, if I take the blame anyway." Working around her was going to be awkward otherwise. 

But Anna shook her head. "She won't appreciate the reminder, given the humiliation it led to, in her mind. She's very much the kind of person who would rather pretend something she's done wrong never actually happened. Instead, just find something nice to do for her, without actually bringing up that there's any sort of issue between you." 

_Sound advice_, he decided, thanking her. For that matter, he ought to do something nice for Lady Hexam as well -- and Anna .... 


End file.
